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This is a very good question and topicold. I would say that if the forward line have a symmetrical teamworkers and that they can from the first passit of the ball... take in mind the measured beat of a one, two, throo or fido... so that the ball can falollop out to the wingers and a very fine trittly how in a run and drop-kick and carry one and shooting in the goal if they can get by without an offsiger which is known on the ref and don't throw the bottload because he's only doing his best. But, er, it'll be hard on their halfbackers because I don't think they'll get a chance to do a falolloper shooty on account of the front line with their deep joy of, shall we say, an express in their enthusiasm to the first who to clop falollop in the goalmouth. Oh yes. Anyway it's a very good question, sir. It's not much about music excepting that half-time in the band falolloped huffalo-dowd.

Asked about Tottenham Hotspur's chances of winning the FA Cup

Goldyloppers trittly-how in the early mordy, and she falolloped down the steps. Oh unfortunade for cracking of the eggers and the sheebs and the buttery full-falollop and graze the knee-clappers. So she had a Vaselubrious, rub it on and a quick healy huff and that was that.

His version of "Goldilocks and the Three Bears"

With your Elvis Presley and wasp-waist and swivel-hippy, show you had, and I must say it showed it first self in pictures with the rhythmic contrapole of the wobbling of the hipper, sideways with the head and tilty, gave him that expression both also with a little doggy-lublike in the eyebold which he conveyed to the smaller femailode of the specie, coupled with his music because he did trittly-how fine on the strims, helped him along the roamer [....] I heard it first of all on a record in the early mordy: I was doing the shavit-huff with my razor blade, which of course is a safety one, and suddenly, suddenly he did a little syncopole or a drop-it and how, or something he did and caused a jerkit over a pimplode and I've been suffering ever since!

Are you all sitty comftybold two-square on your botty? Then I'll begin.

Now, like all real life experience stories, this also begins once a polly tito, and Happiness Stan, whose life evolved the ephemeral colour dreamy most, and his deep joy in this being the multicolour of the moon. Oh yes. His home a victoriana charibold, the four-wheel folloped ft-ft-ft out the back. Now, as eve on his deep approach, his eye on the moon. Alltime sometime deept joy of a full moon scintyladen dangly in the heavenly bode. But now only half! So, gathering all behind him the hintermost, he ploddy-ploddy forward into the deep complicadent fundermold of the forry to sort this one out.